If You Dare!
by Val-Creative
Summary: Christophe inherits an old, fancy manor from his late aunt. Upon hearing the likelihood that it's haunted — and much to Yuuri's reluctance — an overly excited Viktor insists on a seance. /Canon AU. ChristophexMystery Guy. ChristophexMystery Man. Viktuuri. Victuuri. Oneshot.


**.**

 **.**

Once they arrive within the iron-wrought gates, everyone piles out. Yuuri's head arches up to gaze at the impressive three-story chateau, glasses fogging up in the cold with his heavy, awed breathing.

"… Is this it?" he murmurs, jaw dropping.

Viktor claps his hands. He abandons his ton of luggage with Yuuri and rushes up the left-side, outdoor stairs, pulling out his mobile phone for a selfie.

" _Wow_! Amazing!"

"Hold on, you own this?" Yuuri stares around at Christophe mindfully lowering the additional bags and suitcases onto the cobblestone walkway. "This is your house? Legally?"

"I've inherited the chateau from my late aunt, so yes, it's my home until I've sold it." Christophe sounds so nonchalant about the whole thing. Yuuri can hardly believe it. He gets excited about _coupons_ — but owning a manor in Normandy, France just because it ended up in your lap? _Unreal_.

"Construction has been delayed. They believe some floors are being haunted" Christophe shrugs, peering around at the grounds and dabbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Something about tools moving around on their own? I wasn't paying attention."

Yuuri's eyes bug out.

"Wait— _WHAT_?"

"Maybe we can get a picture with the spirit, Yuuri!" Viktor yells out cheerfully.

This time, Christophe appears slightly irritated. He locks the car door and hoists up his things. "Don't be silly, ghosts aren't real…" he announces, his big and round glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "Like being one hundred percent straight."

Viktor covers up a laugh as Christophe's lips quirk up fondly.

 **.**

 **.**

Soon enough, they're distracted with the excess luggage and unpacking. Christophe is the one moving in, but Viktor has practically brought his and Yuuri's entire wardrobe.

It's to be expected, taking time off with a weekend vacation, so Yuuri doesn't say anything. He snuggles up with Viktor and a fleece, purple-patterned blanket, watching a subbed documentary on African cheetahs on a local channel before he excuses himself from their loveseat.

Viktor whines out a protest and clings to Yuuri's waist, before Yuuri sighs and reluctantly tugs on his fiance's hand, leading Viktor into the dim chandelier-lit corridor for the bathroom.

"Now if we get _lost_ , we'll be together," Viktor tells him knowingly and with a big, toothy smile, entwining their fingers and swinging their arms.

"It's on the same floor, _Vitya_ ," Yuuri says, seeming unimpressed by his conclusion.

The heaters must be under construction as well, because both the first floor corridor and the bathroom itself are freezing. Yuuri rubs his own hands, shuddering as he finishes using the sink and exits the bathroom.

"Viktor?" he calls out, not immediately spotting him.

It's far too dark further down, towards the main staircase and the foyer. Yuuri gazes in that direction uneasily before yelping, feeling a pair of hands clutch his shoulders.

"Yuuri! _Yuuri_! I think I saw it!"

"Saw what…?" Yuuri's eyebrows furrow in confusion as Viktor bounces on his heels and laughs out. "I thought you were waiting for me—didn't you hear me?"

A flash of white catches the corner of Yuuri's eye.

He glances towards the darkened corridor, and nearly chokes on an inhale. A pale silhouette, appearing tall and male, wanders by. Viktor doesn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with babbling happily in Yuuri's left ear.

" _Viktor_ —"

"What are you both doing?" Christophe asks from nowhere, his curly, blond hair dripping wet. He pats himself off with a fluffy, maroon-colored towel, only dressed in a bright blue G-string speedo. His voice dropping sultry. "A midnight romp? Don't leave me out of it."

Yuuri blinks, dismissing the comment. "Was that you down the hallway a little bit ago?"

"No, I came from the third floor," Christophe says flatly. He then beams, tugging on Yuuri's empty hand. "You must try the jacuzzi with me, Yuuri— _the water pressure is_ —"

"Okay, but, it _wasn't_ you?"

"I've already said where I've been. What about your fiance?"

Yuuri nods to the man behind him. "Viktor's been with me the whole time."

"It's true!" Viktor makes an excitable noise, gripping on Yuuri's bicep and staring wide-eyed at his oldest friend. "There is a spirit wandering around!"

Christophe frowns a little, rubbing his beard. "Perhaps it is one of the staff?" he offers.

"You said they left this weekend so it would just be us…" Yuuri deadpans.

" _Ah_ , you're right. They would have checked in with me as well." Much to Yuuri's dismay, he shrugs off the observation. "Clearly there must be an reasonable explanation."

"Yes! And we'll find it after a séance!"

"Viktor, _really_ …" Yuuri groans, not as enthusiastic as his insistent fiance. It's not a good idea to invite or mess with spirits, whether or not they're here.

However, his companions are a nonbeliever or a reckless thrill-seeker.

Christophe winks in Yuuri's direction, smirking. "It'll pass the time, won't it?"

Good god.

 **.**

 **.**

He doesn't have a faintest about what they're doing, but Christophe allows his guests to arrange a huge, fabric-draped table into the parlor, light some candles and Viktor scribbles out his own " _spirit board_ " to a plain white piece of paper with a marker.

It's merely two rows of the alphabet in the center, as well as row of numbers below it. At the corners of the paper, there's a **HELLO** and **GOODBYE** and a **YES** and a **NO**.

Christophe hurriedly gulps down his shot of vodka, flipping the glass upside down for Viktor.

They each place a finger atop the bottom of the shot-glass.

"We invite any spirits on this chateau to speak with us," Viktor proclaims solemnly, bowing his head. His silvery hair framed in candlelight. "Is there something you would like to say?"

He can't help it — Christophe slowly nudges the glass to **YES** , biting down a grin.

Yuuri nervously shifts, avoiding looking at everyone, including the shot-glass.

"Thank you," Viktor mumbles, dramatically lifting his head and shutting his eyes. "Now, I must ask you, Spirit... _isn't my Yuuri the most handsomest in the whole wide_ —?"

The shot-glass jerks back to **YES** with Christophe's not-so-subtle actions.

Yuuri's eyes narrow. The doubt at last clouding in.

"See, _see_ , Yuuri!" Viktor shouts, leaning over and softly, warmly kissing Yuuri's cheek without removing his forefinger. "I knew it! You're perfect!"

"Is anyone going to die tonight?" Christophe asks down to the spirit board. He snickers quietly as Yuuri's arms flail upwards in panic, followed by Viktor doing the same and reprimanding Christophe for breaking a rule. Apparently asking if anyone will die soon, or when, or how…

… well, this is all _silly_ nonsense to him anyway. Who cares?

Without purposely moving the shot-glass, nothing happens as the séance goes on. Just as Christophe expected. Viktor pouts a little, but his good mood returns when Yuuri embraces him and says he's sleepy.

They vanish towards their guest bedroom as Christophe whispers " _good night_ " to his friends, blowing out the candles and picking up Bae who purrs contently in his arms. The chateau settles and creaks for the most part, for all its years its been standing. Old houses do that.

Christophe falls asleep easily, after climbing into the sheets, nude.

He dreams.

He dreams of a beautiful, brown-haired man approaching him, sitting on the queen-mattress. The man wears a black, double-breasted tailcoat, a white dress-shirt and waistcoat, a white tie and wing-collar and studs — he's the most elegant and properly dressed man Christophe has seen in a long time. In the dream, the man is silent, gazing down admiringly at Christophe half-asleep.

Pale, masculine fingers reach out, gently cupping the side of Christophe's face.

That's when he hears Bae hissing and spitting mad, howling near the end of the bed. Christophe drags himself out of sleep, rubbing his eyelids and grabbing his mobile. It's two in the morning.

He touches over his cheek, feeling the skin… tingling.

When Bae yowls out, Christophe switches for his flashlight app, pointing it up.

Clear as day, a long, black shadow darts across the wall. He lowers his phone instinctively, shock and a hint of terror blossoming inside his chest. What on _earth_ was that… …?

When he looks again, of course there's nothing strange to be seen. Only the phone's light.

He's tired, Christophe explains this later to himself. His mind played tricks on him.

 **.**

 **.**

However, the man's face is burned into his memory. Christophe tries to not think much more on it, or his endless, repeated dreams, or the fact that he's got an invisible _helper_.

It's been several weeks since Yuuri and Viktor left, and the staff are polite but emotionally distant for the most part. He doesn't require them to help with cooking — and while Christophe prepares a dish of lamb meat and beans, he discovers the missing bottle of white wine by his elbow.

"Thank you," he murmurs unthinkingly, pouring in the wine and listening to the sizzle.

Whenever Christophe requires a new ingredient, be it olives or tomato or cinnamon, he discovers the item by the counter-top or already outside the chateau's massive pantry.

"Would you know where the pinot noir is— _oh_ ," Christophe says, testing the phenomena. It still could be a coincidence formed by his forgetfulness, couldn't it? He falters when the bottle rolls across the kitchen floor, towards Christophe's feet. "… Alright, good."

Once Christophe realizes he's only a spectator in his dreams, it ends.

But that he means…

The man approaches Christophe's majestic, Brazil walnut-veneered bed, staring puzzled at the empty sheets and whips around to Christophe lounging in the whirring, bubbling jacuzzi.

"Hello there~" His mouth opens and closes, then opens as Christophe smiles and gestures idly, folding his arms to the jacuzzi's edge. "I've been wondering when I would ever see you again."

"P-pardon me…"

"So you do speak, my little ghost~" Christophe says, lightly chuckling at the man's gobsmacked features, but not being unkind about it. "And you're from London?"

"Yes, quite so." The man stiffens up. "But how many I ask…?"

Christophe winks. "I did my research. Your name is Roger Collins, and died of tuberculosis in 1889. You went by Masumi in Japan while you lived there for a short time. You were a ' _business_ ' partner of one of this chateau's previous owners, were you not?"

A deep flush graces Masumi's face.

"Sir—"

"Please, call me Christophe. You've been visiting me like a friend." He gestures again, this time towards the steaming-hot jacuzzi. "Won't you? Oh, but not like _that_."

Christophe's eyes lower, almost greedy, and Masumi notices — he's _indecent_!

He squawks, trying to shield his naked bits. He races for the jacuzzi and hops in, submerging into the water. Masumi winces, backing away a little as the other man raises an eyebrow. "I mustn't—"

"Mustn't you?" Christophe replies slyly, taking his time to scoot closer. Masumi flushes harder, bucking into Christophe's hand gripping loosely to his cock. "You're a _big_ boy~"

Because it's a dream, it only makes sense that a _ghost_ can get erect — and that when Christophe kisses his mouth, licking past Masumi's lips and teeth. He tastes ripe black cherries and sweet berries, thick and rich mushrooms. He's surrounded by a flavorful, intoxicating smell like freshly fallen damp leaves … exactly like the pinot noir wine.

Masumi is a _delightful_ partner, sensitive and a quivering mess. He moans to Christophe's thumb rubbing purposely over a nipple, to the jetting water pressure, to little biting kisses and moans louder to Christophe grinning and pulling him over his lap, massaging their cocks together.

For all his initial shyness, Masumi's hips crash down against him, seeking the same release. Hot, bubbling water cascades out of the jacuzzi. Christophe holds onto him, moaning as well.

He awakes mid-moan, to his dark bedroom and the rumpled, damp sheets. Christophe's bare skin soaking wet in perspiration and his own come still pooling to his abdomen. The orgasm fades away, and Christophe sighs out forlornly, running his palms over his face.

 _Good god._

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _YOI isn't mine. It's my first Halloweeny/spoopy themed fic this year! I'll be doing them for all **YOI Wednesdays** this month! I hope you loved this and any **thoughts/comments** are always deeply appreciated. This fic covers my "slash" space on my **YOI Bingo Card** , as well as participates in **Kinktober** this year under "Jacuzzi sex" and "overstimulation" for kinks! And this also fills a prompt from **yoikinkmeme** under " **Any/Any + Haunted House** "!_

 _ALSO IT'S THE FIRST YEAR ANNIVERSARY SINCE YOI WAS RELEASED TOMORROW! HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!_


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